Goldenglow Eyes
by ficklefan
Summary: K'heta had hoped to slink into Skyrim's shadows unnoticed, but now she just wanted to be Elsweyr. Would she find anything in these cold sands to change her mind? Follow her in a tale of cats, water and thievery.
1. Goldenglow Eyes

She would have to swim, she decided grimly. Again, she found herself wishing she had never come to these frozen lands. She unloaded most of what she owned, keeping only a small dagger and the fur armor on her back. She was accustomed to carrying her belongings with her, but it would not do to get her pack wet. Finding an appropriate place under a nearby tree, she started to dig.

"What are you doing?" came a voice in the dark.

She sprang to her feet, dagger drawn. She was surprised when her keen eyes met a large, round pair not unlike her own. Khajiit eyes. Cat eyes. She had been so startled at the intrusion that the accent had slipped past her notice. How was he standing not six paces away? Had he not been Khajiit, he never would have made it so close, she was sure.

Moving protectively in front of her few worldly possessions, she watched the newcomer warily.

"Who are you, Khajiit?" he asked.

She thought carefully on an answer, focusing on his blue feline eyes.

"K'heta," she answered finally.

She had given away much. In Khajiit, the K marked her for her past crime. For murder. She had earned it. He had deserved it. The K scared some, perhaps she could avoid a fight here, but if this Khajiit was intimidated or even surprised by the admission, he did not smell it.

"This one is called Kharjo," he said. "It is well to meet another Khajiit in these cold sands."

She did not know what to think of this warm welcome, Skyrim had not been thus to her so far. The caravan she had traveled here with had been seized by Imperials for the moon sugar they carried shortly after crossing the border. The others had escaped, she had not been so lucky. Since then, it had been civil wars, dragons, and Nordic legends that had plagued her. She wanted no part in any of them.

If she could get out of this situation safely and finish this job, she would have a warm bed to sleep in and food to eat after running so far for so long. She looked hungrily towards the estate in the middle of the lake. The glow from the windows of the main house reflected off the water. It was the only source of light.

"You've got Goldenglow eyes, K'heta," said the newcomer.

At first, she thought he was referring to the yellow color of her eyes, but then she remembered the name of the pretty house in the middle of all that water. Her attention snapped back to this unknown Khajiit.

"What do you know of my plans?" she demanded.

"Peace, K'heta," he said, putting out his empty hands. He had put extra emphasis on the K. "I just meant, many eyes have wandered in that direction, no legs have wandered back."

She felt her tail flick in agitation and stilled it. "My eyes and legs may wander where they will."

"True," he said. "But this Khajiit just wishes to be of service. We are so few in Skyrim, it would not do to let this one stalk the moonlight alone."

She considered this. She had been given help in Whiterun, the Imperial Lydia, a warrior zealot who seemed to expect K'heta to do impossible things. She had left her at the earliest chance in an inn in Ivarsted and slunk out of town in the middle of the night, crossing the wilds into the Rift. She had been on the run before and alone since. Sizing him up in his steel plate mail, she wondered if he would be able to sneak in all that?

"Before this one decides to trust you at her tail, what business have you, Kharjo?" she asked.

"Yes, I was hired to protect the others as we walk the roads of Skyrim. It is a thankless task and I would rather be back home in Elsweyr, but I have little choice," said Kharjo.

"Other Khajiit?" she asked, surprised. She hadn't seen another of her kind since the Imperials raided her camp.

He nodded. "A caravan. Ahkari freed me from a prison in Cyrodiil, and now I must repay my debt. A word of advice, my friend - do not mix gambling and drink. Taken together, they will empty your pockets of every septim."

That was not advice she needed. Her mother had been a sugar tooth, a slave to skooma. It had destroyed her mother and K'heta's own childhood. As a result, the drink was not one of K'heta's own personal sins. She wondered again if this man could be of any use.

She had no other aid. The Thieves' Guild, as they liked to be called, worked alone. When they had given her this task, they hadn't offered any help beyond that silly set of armor. K'heta could not blend in to the city crowds dressed like that. She would make herself the mark. She had buried her own set just southeast of the city gates, where the guards never go. She had kept the boots. Her own pair were well worn and had earned their holes. She had given those to a beggar in the street on her way out of town this moon. Everything could be useful.

"Would you like to repay your debt early?" she asked.

He whistled lowly, it was a musical sound that reminded her of home, and looked towards the lights in the middle of the lake. "That would be a lot of coin," he said.

"Surely that place has it," she said slowly. "But can you swim in all that steel?"

His nose and whiskers crinkled up in a silent laugh.

"You will come with K'heta?" she pressed.

"Khajiit guards your back," said Kharjo.

She finished burying what little she owned and into the frigid water they went. They swam in silence through the dark still lake and came up on the northwestern side of the small island that housed Goldenglow Estate, Riften's local source of honey. This all seemed like silliness to her, but then, the reasonings of these men and mer usually did. They were very strange. She didn't trust the Argonians, but at least she understood their motivations.

She shivered, shaking some of the water free of her fur and started to wring out her wet tail. She could see the trapdoor that the yellow one had spoke of. Vex, she thought was her name, back in the Ratways with the rest of the thieves. Vex had been here before and failed. Vex must not be very proficient. That was not a problem K'heta had. She opened the hatch and climbed lightly down a rickety ladder into in a damp sewer. Why must everything in this country be so very wet and cold? She heard Kharjo land behind her and motioned for him to be silent. She crouched low in a sneaking position and headed down the tunnel.

Skeevers hunted the sewers beneath Goldenglow Estate. Kharjo proved himself useful there, at least against the vermin. She would wait to pass judgment until after they had made it inside the estate. The sewer let out at a side door to the main house. The lock tested her patience, but a few broken lockpicks and whispered curses at the moon later they entered unseen.

Brynjolf had been right about the level of security inside, there were guards everywhere. When they got to the stairs, she left Kharjo as lookout at the top of them, glad once again of his presence. Goldenglow Estate was currently owned by an Altmer named Aringoth and K'heta slowly snaked a path through the hallways unseen, making her way to his chambers.

When she reached it, she entered the room, closing the door behind her. She crept up the side of the wall and peeked out around the bookcase. She could see the elf sitting alone, seemingly unaware of her presence. She carefully moved in.

He turned his gaze to her. She had never excelled at pickpocketing and now she was discovered. K'heta silently cursed the moon as her small dagger instinctively found its way to Aringoth's throat. Unlike Kharjo, this one did smell afraid.

"I do not want to have to kill you," she said quietly. "You do not want me to do so either, so you will give me the key to the safe."

"You think you can steal from me? You'll never get off this island alive," said Aringoth.

"I think that Khajiit will succeed, you think that Khajiit will not. Soon we will both know the truth," she said, fishing the key from his pocket.

Knocking his chair out from under him, she moved nimbly across the room towards the door as he crashed to the ground. He called out an alarm and she jumped deftly to the side as the door flew open. She quickly quaffed a potion of invisibility and dashed out of the room. She didn't stop moving until she reached the landing at the stairs, where she found Kharjo and a dead guard. Her potion wore off then and she faded back into view.

He shrugged helplessly as she took in the scene. "I suppose someone may have heard me," he told her in a voice of innocence. She moved on to more pressing concerns.

"Quickly," she said and he fell in behind her. "We are found out, but I have the key. We make to the basement with much haste."

She handed him a potion of invisibility and she quaffed another one herself. They crept downstairs as quietly as house cats. She silently picked the metal gate between them and the basement and they fled into it. There were two guards who should have been there to greet them, but were thankfully poor at their jobs and it was easy to move past unseen.

As they rounded a corner, they saw a final guard sitting watch at the stairs leading to the lowest part of the estate, Kharjo motioned for her to wait. She did and she tried to mask her interest as he crept up behind the seated man. She was right, the steel plate was too bulky. The guard heard him and rose, starting to turn towards Kharjo. Before he was standing upright he had been knocked solidly to the ground with a heavy mace. She didn't know if the man was still breathing or not and she said as much.

"It matters little, Khajiit," he said. "These people in Skyrim care little for us. It is likely better for us if he is not."

She did not like that line of thinking though she had witnessed enough prejudice amongst these Nords to understand the sentiment. Realizing she was running out of time, she set those thoughts aside and sprung down the stairwell and to the safe. In seconds she had it opened and the contents tucked neatly into her belt pouch, over a hundred gold and a Goldenglow Bill of Sale. It seemed Aringoth was not in truth the owner of the estate.

She also picked up two fat coin purses off of a nearby table. That would be Khajiit's cut for the night, the rest would go to this so called guild. As they exited out the basement door into the cold Skyrim night, Kharjo pulled a goat horned torch off of the wall.

"What are you doing that for?" she asked. "We already stole from them. We do not need to destroy property too."

She didn't mention the men who had died.

"We'll need this for the next part of the job," he said.

That's when she remembered the bee hives. There were six of them and her instructions were to set three on fire, careful not to let the flame spread to the adjoining hives. She supposed this was less odd than what the people of Whiterun had expected of her, but these people in Skyrim were very strange. Maybe it was the cold.

Then she realized. "How do you know this? I never explained this part," she said.

"You never explained any part, Khajiit," he said.

He shifted uncomfortably before admitting, "I am also in debt to Delvin of the Thieves Guild. Do not trust the man's bluff."

That did make sense. Why else would he have been there tonight and have been so agreeable to come along on this unmerry adventure. It also meant the Thieves Guild had invested more in her than just armor, that perhaps they put more value in her welfare than she had believed. Or perhaps it meant Brynjolf didn't trust her to do the job herself.

Using the night eyes every Khajiit had, she scanned around them. Taking the torch from his hand, she gestured towards a tiny island just to the north.

"Cross over and wait for me there," she said. "I will do this next part."

He looked over at the hives and then back towards the island. Nodding reluctantly, he slowly crept towards the banks. Before he made it to the water, she had hopped down the side of the rocky estate and was standing in front of him again. She could see his face clearly in the dark and this time, surprise was there. She took his hand and placed in it one of the heavy coin purses she had swiped from the basement.

"Your share, Khajiit," said K'heta. "May it find you freedom."

Tufts of fur under his ears twitched. "I have freedom enough," he replied. "I have the twin moons above me and Goldenglow eyes before me. Anything more would be greedy."

He was looking intently at her, his blue eyes reflecting the light of the main house. Her own yellow eyes must be lit up as well. She felt her face redden underneath its coat in a way that hadn't happened since she was a foolish cub.

"This one is glad you have come to Skyrim, K'heta," his low voice rumbled.

She felt for the first time, that she might be, too. She couldn't bring herself to say the words though, she only nodded.

"I will wait on that island," he said.

He sunk into the dark waters and she turned towards the small enclosure that housed the six large bee hives. This would be the easy part.


	2. Whiterun Runner

Kharjo had not been on that small island when she got back. K'heta had walked back to Riften alone. No Khajiit caravan camped at the gates. She had questioned the guard and he said they'd packed up and left abruptly. There was nothing to do but go back to the Ratways alone.

Neither Brynjolf nor Delvin mentioned the other Khajiit, so she did not either. All the guild had praised her on a job well done. These people seemed to expect very little, but perhaps they just expected very little from Khajiit. Delvin claimed it was a curse that was keeping the guild from prospering that had morale so low.

She didn't put much faith in any of the Nordic superstitions that she had heard since arriving in these strange sands, but curses, she knew, were all too real. She herself was the last of her litter mates born under the waxing moon in Rain's Hand. K'heta had accepted her fate long before leaving Elsweyr.

So she went on about life as normally as one possibly could when everything was new and different. They had given her a chest to keep her belongings in. She didn't trust it with most things, they were still safely tucked in her pack close to her body, but she supposed the bed it sat at the base of was hers as well. That meant she very nearly had a home, so long as she continued to do her share.

She made sure she did. She spent nearly a week in Windhelm, doing odd jobs for Delvin, fixing books and setting people up. It had been her first time in the city of old wood and ancient stones, it was beautiful but she was not eager to return. She'd learned Khajiit are unwelcome within the walls, she had had to sneak past the guards to even enter.

The road between cities had been mostly uneventful, though she had been unprepared for passing through the Eastmarch. All that hot water, bubbling from holes in the ground; she had never seen the like. K'heta ventured a ways into the wilds there and stood at the water's edge and put her fingers in. If she could enjoy water, it would be like this.

She had heard a loud thud then, followed by many more. She stood perfectly still as a massive creature lumbered by, a mammoth, a thing not seen outside of Skyrim's sands. K'heta had been amazed by the size, by the large tusks and the trunk. After it passed, so did another, and then finally a giant, herding them by, a giant carrying an enormous club. She had quickly slipped into the shadows and made her way back to the road, making sure not to take any other deviations from the path.

When she'd arrived back in the Ratways, Delvin had paid her the coin she had earned and sent her to Brynjolf. She had been summoned by Maven Black-Briar, the guild's patron. She cleaned herself, slept, and was ready to meet with Maven the next afternoon.

Maven Black-Briar's place of business was a dark table in The Bee and Barb, Riften's only inn and tavern. The woman herself was an unpleasant Nord who made it a point to be unimpressed with Khajiit. That was well with K'heta, she had not wanted to gain the attention of any outside of her new clan. Maven Black-Briar was sending her to Whiterun. K'heta did not want to go to Whiterun. She had managed to hide from what had happened there for this long, she did not want their foolish superstitions to interfere with her new life. Maybe she could sneak in and out unnoticed.

She was worrying about this when she passed through the city gates so she did not notice the tents set up outside until she heard, "Where are you going, Khajiit?"

He was back.

"Khajiit goes where the road takes her." She gave the customary response.

"Kharjo will follow this road too," he said, falling in behind her.

She stopped, turning to face him. "Why do you follow? Do you also drink and play at dice with Maven Black-Briar?"

Kharjo grimaced and let out a quiet hiss. "No. I follow out of concern for fellow Khajiit. Also, this one hoped to ask a favor of K'heta."

"You did not wait on the island," she said.

It was not an accusation, just a truth.

"No," he said. "I could not. There was need of Kharjo."

"But you want to come now?" she asked.

"Yes."

She nodded and turned back to the road. They had made it a few paces past the caravan when another Khajiit voice, an elder female voice, called out to them.

"Where are you going, Khajiit?" came the voice from inside the largest of the tents.

She noticed Kharjo's tension increase at the sound, his body was rigid and his face tight as he turned around. His tail stayed perfectly still.

She approached the tent cautiously. She knew it was dangerous to barter with a Khajiit elder. It was said that when you walked away you would still own your name, but Khajiit would own everything on your back. To speak with an elder Khajiit was to barter with one.

"Khajiit goes where the road takes her," she recited the old words again, this time with hesitation.

The older Khajiit clutched at her fine skirts from her seated position just within the open tent flap and said, "So many refuse to talk to us. They call us thieves and smugglers. I am glad to see that you are not such a one."

She was Khajiit, of course she would not refuse to talk to them, but then she considered the darker implications in the elder one's words. She felt her tail twitch nervously and bright blue eyes watched her curiously from the grave face of the caravan leader. She noticed the Khajiit had some graying fur in the hollows of her cheeks; she must be very old indeed.

K'heta saw nothing to say so she remained silent and the caravan leader continued, "Mostly it is the Nords. They do not like outsiders in their lands, and so we are forbidden to enter the cities. When they look upon us, they see only pickpockets and skooma dealers. It is most unfair, but we do our best to ignore them."

It was hard to ignore the case of skooma sitting openly in the tent, but K'heta did not look.

The old Khajiit spoke on, "I came to Skyrim after I found myself unwelcome in both Elsweyr and Cyrodiil. I seem to have an unfortunate talent for getting myself involved in misunderstandings with the law. Ri'saad was able to look past that, and it was he who helped to set me up with a trade caravan. Now I work for him."

"And Kharjo works for you," K'heta finally spoke.

"Yes, Ahkari managed to help him out of a bit of trouble in Cyrodil and now he protects Ahkari from trouble here in Skyrim," said the seated Khajiit woman.

"Could Kharjo protect this one from the road's dangers these next moons?" she asked.

"To Whiterun, yes, it is all arranged," said Ahkari dismissively.

She looked sharply at Kharjo. She hadn't even told him that, and already these Khajiit knew of her travel plans. He was seemingly very interested in the tent flap and could not bother to notice her baleful look.

"But for his aid, you must help Ahkari too, yes?" said Ahkari.

The hook. If you entered the water, it always found you. This time she did look, pointedly, at the case of skooma sitting in the tent.

"These just came in from my supplier in the docks. They go to Ri'saad with much haste. You will take them, yes? Wait for him just beyond the gates of Whiterun." The old merchant finished her instructions.

K'heta was a skooma runner again.

She did not just go blindly running into the Rift this time. She and Kharjo took a dirt path just north of the city, following it west until it ended at a small farm. Skirting that, they found themselves at the banks of the lake she had swam just a few moons ago. She had since learned its name was Lake Honrich. In the daylight, K'heta decided it was still very wet and very cold, but also quite beautiful.

The first night of the journey was mostly uneventful. They followed the banks of the lake in silence. Kharjo hadn't spoken since she had found out he had ulterior motives for being here once again, and K'heta felt fine with that. At one point they past Goldenglow, the estate in the middle of the lake where they had worked together before, but neither spoke of it.

Around sunset the banks on their side of the water turned to mountains and they were forced to find a bridge and cross. After that, they continued on to the South Road. Khajiit can travel far on little rest, K'heta did not feel like stopping just yet.

At the fork in the road leading to Ivarsted and the Throat the World that was looming above it, she turned the opposite direction. K'heta would not be going back there any time soon, no matter what those people at Dragonreach thought.

They found a camp not far from the path and stopped for the night. She threw a few random bits of produce she had managed to scavenge into the cookpot over the fire and after a bit there was a reasonable stew. Khajiit were not as finicky as these men and mer seemed to think. She offered a bowl to Kharjo, who was sitting on a tree stump, looking out over a deep blue. He took it and the silence continued through the meal. Their camp overlooked another lake, one she did not know the name of. Lake of Freezing Water, no doubt. There were two bedrolls near the fire. One was under a small tent, Kharjo motioned she should take that one, which she did.

She awoke to the sound of rain just before sunrise. Her companion was still acting sentry on the stump, she did not know if he had stayed there all night.

When he noticed her movement he said, "You snore like the Mane."

In spite of her anger, she felt pride at the compliment. He walked over to her tent, handing her a bucket.

"Here is water from the lake and in the pot is some of the stew leftover," he said. "We should make for Whiterun at first light."

Of course, his obligations to the skooma trade. His reasons for being here. She set the bucket aside and started to clean herself. She stayed under the tent out of the water as long as she could, but they made good on his words and were back on the road before sun broke over the mountains. The storm followed them.

Around mid-morning they were attacked by the first sabre cat K'heta had ever seen, a muscular feline with powerful fangs. She quickly climbed a tall tree, the sort that stayed green always, even in this frozen forest. She hadn't realized something so heavy would also be able to climb and was loudly regretting her decision, but there was no need. A steel mace landed heavily in the feral cat's skull, eliminating the threat entirely.

She hopped down from her place in the treetop and smiled at Kharjo. She pulled out the dagger and started to skin the animal.

"You do not mind?" she asked.

He shrugged. "This one would not use it."

"It will make fine armor," K'heta said.

She could feel him watching her while she worked, and did her best to ignore it. When she was done, she tightly rolled up the skin, tying her new bundle firmly to the underside of her pack.

"When will the road meet Whiterun?" she said.

Kharjo covered his eyes with his hand, looking at the sun peeking out from behind the gray clouds. She was thankful the rain had stopped.

"Khajiit should be there before moonrise," he said.

They got their first glimpse of Whiterun as the sun reached its peak. Dragonreach could be seen perched like the mighty stone eagle she had seen there the last time she was in the city. The city itself sat on a high hill in the middle of a large mountain basin, with the Jarl's castle at the very top. K'heta would never live in a city like that herself, but she was beginning to see merit in these elves and men's peculiar habit of permanent addresses.

She quite liked the plains of Whiterun Hold. There was less water here than the other parts of Skyrim she had seen and the white tundra cotton and tall lavender stalks that dotted the landscape reminded her of a picture book she had once stolen from a merchant's cart in Elsweyr.

The first place they passed as they neared the city was the Honningbrew Meadery, Maven Black-Briar's major competitor and K'heta's mark this journey. It was comprised of two gray buildings, one of stone and one of wood, both with tall sloping yellow shingled roofs in the Whiterun fashion. There was a sign out front welcoming travelers and merchant's inside. They continued past it.

"Khajiit's job is there, yes?" Kharjo said.

"K'heta's is," she responded.

She still didn't know how much he knew of her business or whether he was only here to see that the delivery made it safely. There was also the matter of Whiterun itself. Khajiit were rare in Skyrim, her face was known. How much of what had happened here last time had become rumor?

She looked anxiously at her companion but he was looking up at Dragonreach. The castle was an impressive sight, not many Khajiit were invited inside the Jarl's palace in Whiterun. She had been there, but she kept this to herself and they came to the stables. K'heta could see a cluster of tents on a hill above them with a small campfire in the center. Ri'saad must already be there.

"This one would like a moment," Kharjo said, beckoning her to follow. He led her to a small lookout tower in a field of cabbages and there he turned to her.

"I was not on the island," he said. "I heard the sounds of battle and my debt required I go. The caravan was ambushed. Good for us these bandits are not quiet like Khajiit. A nuisance, really, but many of the marauders had quick fingers. One of them stole my Moon Amulet, given to me by my mother when I was just a cub. It is my only memory of home in this cold land."

She felt the weight of the pack against her body. "K'heta will help retrieve this amulet," she said.

"You are kind to offer," he said. "We followed them as far as we could, but the road was lost from them quickly. We believe we have now discovered where the bandits are headquartered. We will go together, I miss my amulet, but a life cannot be replaced as easily."

She smiled at his friendly blue cat eyes and long whiskers, admiring the golden color of his fur and the large tufts on either side of his face. She felt lucky to have met so fine a Khajiit so far from home.

He stepped off the platform. "Now that I have explained myself and asked my favor, we should make our delivery to Ri'saad. He is not a patient Khajiit and we would be easy to spot in these open places."

She stepped lightly down beside him and they made their way across the field and up the hill to the caravan.

"Ri'saad welcomes Khajiit," came an ancient voice from inside the tent. "You have come with the shipment, yes?"

"It is Kharjo," said her companion. "And this one is called K'heta."

"Is that so," said the old Khajiit, peering at her from his seated location. "Ri'saad is pleased to meet you, Dragonborn."


End file.
